Don't Look Back

  Anthony looked intrigued. “How does he make his, uh, arrangements?”

  “He works only at night and he’s careful to stay in the shadows. Uses a couple of street lads to deliver his messages.” Jack rolled his brandy glass between his wide palms. “From what little I’ve seen of him, I can tell you that he’s a small man. Judging from the sound of his voice, I’d say he’s not young. But not old and frail either. Caught a glimpse of him moving off down a foggy lane once. He’s got an odd way of walking.”

  “How is that?” Tobias asked.

  “A sort of a twist and a slide to his gait, if you know what I mean. I’ll wager he suffered an unfortunate accident at one time or another and the bones never healed properly.”

  “An accident of that sort would not be surprising, given his line of work,” Tobias said. “Probably ran afoul of a dissatisfied client.”

  “Aye.”

  Anthony glanced at Tobias, as if asking permission to put forth a notion of his own.

  “What is it?” Tobias asked.

  “It merely occurred to me that mayhap Mr. Nightingale effects a severe limp as a part of his disguise.”

  Tobias chuckled. “An excellent point. It is, indeed, a distinct possibility.”

  Jack glanced at Tobias and closed one eye in a knowing wink. “I’d say your new assistant has a knack for the trade.”

  “I’ve been afraid of that,” Tobias said.

  Anthony smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

  Jack turned back to Tobias. “So, then, ye’ve taken on another case with your occasional partner, eh?”

  “Our client claims that his wife was murdered by whoever convinced her to steal the antiquity,” Tobias said neutrally.

  “Ah, yes, the mesmerist’s wife.”

  Anthony straightened. “You’ve heard about the affair?”

  “Aye.” Jack took a swallow of brandy. “Sooner or later that sort of news generally makes its way to the Gryphon.” He studied Tobias. “You’re searching for a killer again, my friend?”

  “So it would seem.”

  Anthony glanced at Tobias in surprise. “What do you mean by that? There is no question but that Mrs. Hudson was murdered.”

  “The lady is dead, all right,” Tobias said. “But I am not at all certain that her killer is unknown to us.”

  “I don’t understand,” Anthony said.

  “The lady had arranged a meeting with her lover the night she died,” Tobias said patiently. “Her husband was aware of the affair and he admits he knew about the rendezvous. He attended a demonstration of mesmerism that night. The lady was later found strangled. Those are the only real facts we have at this point.”

  Anthony was still baffled but Jack nodded, comprehension plain on his scarred features.

  “You think Hudson followed her to the rendezvous and killed her in a jealous rage,” he said.

  Tobias shrugged. “I think that is the most likely explanation of events, yes.”

  “And then discovered too late that she had made off with a valuable antiquity and that the thing was missing.” Jack snorted. “Talk about rough justice, eh?”

  “Hold on here,” Anthony said quickly. He turned to Tobias. “Are you saying that you believe Hudson hired you and Mrs. Lake to find Mrs. Hudson’s lover, not because he wants to bring the killer to justice but because he wants to recover the bracelet?”

  “In a word, yes,” Tobias said.

  “But if you believe that your client is lying, why did you agree to take the case?” Anthony demanded.

  “I had no choice in the matter.” Tobias finished his brandy. “My partner made it clear that she was determined to look for the lover and the bracelet with or without me.”

  “And you could not let her take on such a dangerous case alone,” Anthony concluded.

  “That sums up the situation very precisely.” Tobias looked at Jack. “Have you anything else to tell us?”

  “Only that I would advise a bit of caution,” Jack said. “The fact that Mr. Nightingale is involved in this affair is a bit worrisome. Word has it that several of his clients are not only very rich but quite ruthless when it comes to acquiring items for their collections.”

  “Oddly enough, I had already reached that conclusion.” Tobias stood and put down the empty brandy glass. “Come, Tony. We must be on our way if we are to arrive at the Stillwater ball before midnight. I can only hope that Nightingale will not keep us cooling our heels for very long.”

  “I doubt that he will,” Jack said. “But the only thing I can tell you with any great certainty is that the meeting, when it does occur, will take place at night.”

  Twelve

  SHORTLY AFTER MIDNIGHT LAVINIA STOOD WITH Tobias at the edge of Lady Stillwater’s elegantly proportioned ballroom and watched Anthony lead Emeline into the sweeping turns of a waltz. A sense of inevitability descended on her.

  “They do look very well together, don’t they?” she said.

  “Yes, they do.” There was no inflection in Tobias’s words. “I know that you had every intention of marrying Emeline off to a wealthy man, but sometimes love gets in the way of an otherwise entirely commendable scheme.”

  She watched the dancers. “It might be just a passing flirtation.”

  “Don’t sound so hopeful. I fear the worst.”

  She winced. “The worst being that they are falling in love?”

  “That is your view of the matter, is it not?” he said in that same, too-even voice.

  For some odd reason the casual manner in which he agreed that falling in love was, indeed, the worst possible outcome flattened her spirits. She wondered morosely if Tobias would consider the possibility of falling in love himself an equally dreadful fate.

  “Unfortunately, I feel obliged to inform you that Anthony does, indeed, seem to have a talent for the investigation business,” Tobias added. “Now that he has had a taste of it, I doubt very much that I shall be able to persuade him to reconsider a more stable career.”

  She heard the grim resignation in his voice and understood. He had tried to do his best as a substitute father for his young brother-in-law, just as she had struggled to secure a safe future for Emeline.

  “Do you think we have failed them both?” she asked quietly.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I will say that when one sees them so happy together, it is difficult to feel that we are allowing them to ruin their lives entirely.”

  She brightened a little at that comment. “There is something to be said for love, is there not?”

  “Something, yes. Precisely what, I cannot hazard a guess.”

  She did not know what to read into those words, so she decided to change the topic. “I must tell you that Anthony is not the only one who shows a flair for investigation. Emeline demonstrated a remarkable degree of skill with interrogation techniques this afternoon.”

  “The two of you did very well to get the information concerning Lord Banks’s connection to the bracelet so quickly today.”

  “Thank you.” She was briefly distracted by the praise. Then she returned to her subject. “The thing is, Tredlow practically melted into a puddle when Emeline smiled at him and complimented him on his reputation in the antiquities business. I vow, she would have got the information out of him even if I had not been there to promise him a fee for his professional services.”

  “Charm is always a useful talent, and Miss Emeline has a great quantity of it.”

  Lavinia nodded. “I have always known that she had a gracious way about her, but I admit that I had not realized until today how useful the ability to entrance gentlemen could be in the investigation business.”

  “Hmm.”

  “As a matter of fact, watching Emeline’s excellent performance this afternoon gave me an idea.”

  There was a short, wary pause.

  “What sort of idea?” Tobias asked cautiously.

  “I am thinking of asking her to instruct me in the technique of employing charm to ob
tain information from gentlemen.”

  Tobias choked on the mouthful of champagne he had been in the process of swallowing. He sputtered and started to cough.

  “Good heavens, sir, are you all right?” Alarmed, she reached into the little beaded reticule that Madam Francesca had insisted she purchase to go with her gown. She yanked out a handkerchief and thrust it into Tobias’s hand. “Here. Use this.”

  “Thank you,” he mumbled into the square of delicately embroidered linen. “I believe that what I really need, however, is a large glass of claret.” He snagged another glass of champagne off a passing tray. “But I suppose this will have to do for now.”

  She frowned as she watched him down half the contents of the glass. “Is your leg bothering you again?”

  “It is not my leg that is troubling me.”

  She did not care for the gleam in his eyes. “What is it, then?”

  “My sweet, you have any number of admirable skills and talents. But as your loyal, occasional business partner, I must tell you that, in my considered opinion, any attempt on your part to study the art of charming gentlemen into giving up their secrets would be a complete waste of your time.”

  The fact that he assumed charm to be a skill that was beyond her struck her to the quick.

  “Are you implying, sir,” she said coldly, “that I lack the ability to cause gentlemen to dissolve into puddles?”

  “Not at all.” His teeth flashed in a wicked grin. “You certainly have a dissolving effect on me on occasion.”

  She glowered. “You find my notion of studying the techniques of charm quite amusing, do you not?”

  “I regret to say that I do not believe that either one of us has an aptitude for charm. I speak with some authority because, as it happens, Anthony has been attempting to teach me some of the finer points of the art.”

  She was stunned. “He has?”

  “Indeed. I have run one or two experiments on you recently, and as far as I can tell it has had no effect whatsoever.”

  “You tried to charm me?”

  “For all the good it did. Obviously you failed to even notice my poor efforts.”

  “When do you ever employ charm—” She broke off, remembering his recent comments at breakfast. “Oh, yes. That business of me resembling an incarnation of Venus.”

  “And there was that rather nice line comparing you with a sea nymph. I practiced that one for the length of the entire distance between my house and yours this morning.”

  “Just because you have no gift for charm does not mean that I cannot learn the skill.”

  “Save your energy, my sweet. I have concluded that charm is an inborn attribute. One either possesses it naturally, from the cradle, as is the case with Miss Emeline and Anthony, or one lacks it altogether and no degree of instruction will enable one to acquire it.”

  “Rubbish.”

  “I fail to see why you are concerned with learning how to charm gentlemen,” Tobias said. “You contrive to do rather well without that skill.”

  “I believe that is an insult, sir.”

  “I did not mean it as such.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps I would enjoy charming certain gentlemen.”

  “Me, for instance?” He smiled in a kindly fashion. “It is a pretty thought, but it is not necessary, my dear. I am content with you just the way you are.”

  “Really, Tobias.”

  “Yes, really. It is apparent to me that you and I have established an understanding of each other’s nature that goes beyond insincere platitudes and meaningless compliments.”

  “You may be correct; nevertheless, it strikes me as an extraordinarily useful inquiry technique and I am strongly inclined to perform some experiments of my own before I abandon the whole notion.”

  “I trust you will be cautious, madam. I am not at all certain that my nerves are strong enough to sustain the shock of a heady dose of charm delivered by you.”

  She had had enough of his teasing. “Do not concern yourself, sir. I was not planning to waste any such hard-won skill on you. I suspect you would be utterly impervious to charm, in any event.”

  “No doubt.” His voice softened to that low pitch that told her he was no longer teasing her. “Nevertheless, if you choose to conduct any experiments with charm, I must insist that you confine your researches to me.”

  She caught a glimpse of something in his eyes that was both dangerous and exciting, but she was not certain what to make of it. There was an element of irony here, she thought. This was just the sort of situation where the ability to charm a gentleman would be quite useful.

  “Why should I confine my experiments to you, sir?” she asked lightly.

  “I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to put any other innocent gentlemen at risk.”

  “You, sir, are no innocent.”

  “It was a figure of speech.” His gaze went past her shoulder. “Speaking of one who knows the value of charm, here is Mrs. Dove.”

  Lavinia was oddly disappointed that Joan had chosen this moment to seek her out in the crowded ballroom. These brisk verbal exchanges with Tobias never failed to invigorate her senses and infuse her with a certain pleasant heat.

  Nevertheless, business called.

  She collected herself and turned to greet the striking woman coming toward them.

  Joan Dove was in her mid-forties, but her pale blond hair hid the telltale streaks of silver well. With her fine, classical features and her superb sense of style, she was frequently mistaken for a much younger woman. It was not until one drew close enough to notice the faint lines at the corners of her eyes and the worldly experience in her gaze that one got a hint of her true age.

  Although she had been widowed for a full year, Joan still wore only gray and black in memory of her much-loved husband. While the gowns were limited in their colors and hues, they were inevitably in the first stare of fashion. Madam Francesca saw to that.

  Tonight she was serenely elegant in silver satin trimmed with exquisite little black roses. The neckline was cut low to frame her fine shoulders and bosom. The skirts fell in perfect folds to her ankles.

  “Ah, there you are, Lavinia. Tobias.” Joan smiled at both of them. “A pleasure to see you this evening. I collect that Emeline and Anthony are enjoying themselves on the dance floor.”

  “Indeed.” Lavinia smiled with satisfaction. “This is another social coup for both of them, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your efforts to secure the invitations for us.”

  “Think nothing of it. Now that I am getting out a bit more, it is in my own best interests to ensure that there will be people at these affairs with whom I can enjoy conversation. I consider you and Tobias to be not only good friends but colleagues as well.”

  Lavinia caught Tobias’s eye. They exchanged glances of mutual understanding that needed no words. The thought of Joan as a colleague was unsettling.

  It had been Joan’s suggestion that they should consult with her on difficult cases where her unusual connections might prove useful. Indeed, she was quite enthusiastic about what she viewed as her new hobby.

  Although Joan had been their first important client and Lavinia would always be grateful to her, not only for the business but for introducing her to Madam Francesca, there was good reason to have some misgivings about the notion of taking her on as a consultant. On the positive side, however, she offered her services for free.

  Joan was a mysterious woman with a shadowy past. One of the few things that Lavinia knew for certain about her was that, before his untimely death, her husband, Fielding Dove, had controlled a powerful criminal organization known as the Blue Chamber. At its zenith, the ring had possessed extensive legal and illegal business interests that reached beyond England all the way to the Continent.

  The Chamber had supposedly disintegrated and collapsed following Dove’s death last year. But Tobias had picked up rumors in certain underworld quarters to the effect that many of the Chamber’s enterprises had not
been destroyed after all. They were merely under new management.

  And the most likely new proprietor in sight, as far as Lavinia and Tobias could determine, was Joan Dove.

  Some questions, Lavinia thought, were better left unasked.

  “I am happy to tell you that I have been quite busy with my researches on behalf of Lake and March this evening,” Joan said cheerfully.

  The enthusiasm in her voice caught Lavinia’s attention and made her look at her friend more closely. This lightness of spirit was new. Perhaps Joan was, at long last, emerging from mourning.

  “Lake and March,” Lavinia repeated thoughtfully. “I rather like the sound of that.”

  “Personally, I do not care for it,” Tobias said. “If you must give our occasional partnership a formal designation, Joan, you may refer to the firm as March and Lake.”

  “Rubbish,” Lavinia shot back. “Lake and March is far more appropriate.”

  “I disagree,” Tobias said. “The senior partner always comes first.”

  “Age is a consideration, of course, although I would not have been so rude as to call attention to yours. Nevertheless—”

  “I was referring to being the senior in terms of experience in the profession,” Tobias muttered. “Not my years.”

  Lavinia smiled sweetly and turned back to Joan with an inquiring expression. “Now, then, you were saying, madam?”

  “Before I was so rudely interrupted by your little squabble about the proper name for your business relationship with Mr. March, do you mean?” Joan’s eyes glinted with a rare amusement. “Yes, well, I was about to tell you of some rumors that are circulating among certain members of the ton who take a keen interest in antiquities.”

  Tobias put down his champagne glass and looked at Joan with acute interest. “You have my undivided attention, madam.”

  “I knew it,” Lavinia said, excitement bubbling inside her. “Word of the missing Medusa has begun to move through high circles, has it not? That is precisely why I contacted you earlier today and asked for your assistance, Joan. With your social connections you are in an ideal position to learn this sort of information.”